A Page Out of Their Book
by Cheryl W
Summary: When Dean’s taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won’t cross for each other. No Slash.
1. Chapter 1

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Spoilers up through 5.08. This is just a quick tale broken down into a few short chapters. It's complete so, with some encouragement, I should be able to post it pretty quickly. Timeline wise, it fits in before the storyline of 5.09.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

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A brother is born to help in times of adversity ~ Proverbs 17:17

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It shouldn't have happened. Not to him. He was better than this, smarter, more vigilant. None of that changed the fact that he was pressed against the Impala, a gun barrel jammed into the back of his head, and a low lethal voice hissing in his ear. "Make one wrong move and I'll pull this trigger. Try and take me down and my partners will drop in on Sammy in room 7 at the Crocodile Motel on highway 8. And you won't like the state your brother is in after they are done."

Not doubting the man's threat, Dean readily capitulated, but with ill grace "Alright! You got me. Leave Sam alone." The last more threat than stipulation.

"Sam's wellbeing is in your hands, Dean. Now put your hands on the roof and don't move."

Obeying the man's instructions, Dean stood there as every last weapon he had on his person was removed, along with his wallet, his cell phone and the Impala keys. Then he was yanked away from the Impala by the collar of his jacket, was finally able to see his assailant, and the engraved .45 Colt leveled at his head. Found to his frustration, that the mid-forty, dark haired, muscle toned man was unfamiliar to him…but the look in his eyes wasn't. "You're a hunter, right? Want some stupid revenge on me or my brother? I got to tell you, it's not an original idea."

But the man didn't acknowledge his guess, instead kept the gun sighted on him as he opened the Impala's backdoor, tossed in the cell phone, wallet and keys onto the seat and slammed the door. Motioning with the gun, he ordered, "Start walking toward the green truck over there." When Dean hesitated, he shouted, "Now!"

With an agitated sigh, Dean hung his head a moment then started trekking toward the truck that the man had indicated a few hundred yards across the bar's parking lot. "I have to admit, I'm curious about how you found me." Honestly was more miffed that some hunter seeking revenge could find him when even angels couldn't.

"Easy. Knew you would come as soon as the newspaper ran the article about the deaths in the area." There was no smugness in the fellow hunter's tone, only certainty.

"You killed those people to get me here?!" Dean shot back, throwing a glare over his shoulder at his companion, angry that five innocent lives were lost, maybe because of him.

"No," the man sharply denied. "Hunt's real. I just figured you would be drawn to it like I was. You've got a thing for shapeshifters after St. Louis. Would cross the country to get another shot at one of them."

"Huh? You think you know me pretty well, don't you?" Dean challenged, even as he cursed his own predictability.

"I know your brother was dead and you got him back. I know you were in Hell and got out," the hunter bitterly recapped. He gave Dean a shove forward when the other hunter stopped and faced him, his surprise telegraphed by his raised eyebrows. "And I know you and your brother started this war." Arriving at the truck, he spun Dean around, slammed his back against the door and rammed the barrel of the gun under Dean's chin.

Leaning against Dean, his breath hitting the other man's face, the man's cold green eyes sizzled into hard green eyes. "And there's one more thing I know for sure: my brother's dead because of you…and you're helping me get him back."

Before Dean could formulate a comeback, he felt a needle puncture his stomach. Then the world went fuzzy, grey and then black. Was left with time to think one thought: _I'm so screwed_.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and I would love to hear what you think!

And thanks goes out to Bhoney for encouraging me to post something new after I had decided to keep quiet and store away my thoughts on my hard drive for a spell!

Have a great evening!

Cheryl W.


	2. Chapter 2

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story. And I don't own Boondock Saints either.

Author's Note: Your reviews were awesome!! Thanks so much for the great response when I gave you so little. Here's the next snippet.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

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Chapter 2

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It was a fine line when he could officially start to worry about his brother. Dean at a bar meant there was varying timelines he could work with, from a two hour window up to an all-nighter. And as much as they should have had protocol in place, there was none. No 'call me if you're not coming home'. No 'call me when you leave the bar so I know you didn't wrap yourself and your baby around a telephone pole'. Not for the first time, Sam realized they needed protocol. Desperately. And maybe he could insist on it. Say it was about them being equal partners, or about the dangers of the present situations…or about not making his little brother feel nauseous with worry.

'_Ah, to heck with it_,' Sam finally resolved, picking up the cell and speed dialing his brother, biting his lip wondering how this conversation would go. Didn't even have his lines in place when the phone rang and rang and rang and rang one more time before clicking over to the dreaded voice mail. Even as his brother's voice spoke in his ear, Sam cleared his throat, was trying to enact an I'm-not-worried, just-checking-in tone, wasn't quite prepared when the beep came. "Hey, Dean, it's me. Just…you know…checking in. Bobby..Bobby called. Just give me a call back and I'll fill you in on what news he had. Okay….bye." Disconnecting the call, he felt a smidgeon of guilt at throwing Bobby into the mix but knew it was a sure fire way of getting Dean to call back. Which, OK, Bobby hadn't called but something in his gut was tightening up like a baseball. So if throwing out a few white lies got Dean to call him, if he could know for sure that his brother was fine, it was worth it. After all, he had done so much more in the name of brotherly worry before.

Left with nothing better to do, he turned on the TV, flicked through a few channels stopped as one of his favorite movies played: Boondock Saints. But it felt wrong, not having Dean there watching with him. Watched the scene where the brother was handcuffed to the toilet while they took the other brother down to the alley to kill him. Clenched his jaw as he watched the brother panic, use his adrenaline, fear for his brother to pull the toilet from its foundations and did a jump off a five story building, all to save his brother. Knew it was something so less than Dean had done for him, what with the Hell stint he had volunteered for. But he still cringed thinking that Dean would do that for him to, nearly break his wrist to be free, do a high dive off a ledge with no net or water below. '_And I go ahead and turn on him, choose Ruby. Choose revenge over him. Crap crap crap._' The self recriminations rising like they always did when his brother wasn't with him, wasn't sitting close by, proving that they were still family, still a team, still fighting side by side no matter what had happened between them.

Clinking off the tv, he began to pace, hands running through his hair. Dean had said he was heading to the local bar but he could be half way across the state by now. Had maybe decided that '_picking a different hemisphere'_ was really the right way to go: him in one, Dean in another. That Gabriel's words had reinforced Dean's earlier resolve to leave him on his own. To maybe fight this war apart, to make sure they didn't go all brother verses brother.

Picking up the cell phone again, he placed another call, could care less that Dean would think he was being a girl. Again the phone rang, went the four rounds and then the voice mail and then the beep. "It's me again. Look…Dean…just call me right away. I'm …you've been gone awhile, dude, and I'm….soon going to call it a night. So call me."

Ok, it wasn't his most direct approach, was definitely going to get Dean joking about him needing to be tucked in for beddy bye but if it got his phone ringing, he would take any harassment Dean dished out. Not putting the phone down, he paced to the window, thought about calling Bobby but knew the man had enough on his plate without his unfounded worries to deal with. And sure, Cas was on his speeddial but calling up an angel for a simple thing like him wanting his brother home safe and sound was a terrible misuse of someone of Cas's 'talent'. Sighing, he reclaimed the seat on the bed, sat there and watched the adventures of the two brothers from Boston, almost smirked as he realized that he and Dean now had matching tattoos. Smiled at the thought that Dean might actually come to like that similarity if he pointed out the Boondock Saints did too. His brother could be such a fanboy sometimes.

Between watching the movie and the clock, Sam saw practically ever five minutes go by, felt his worry and his dread built. Yeah, he and Dean still had some things to work out but they were together now, had made the conscious decision to be together. Dean wouldn't ditch him, hadn't even when he deserved it the most. And his brother wouldn't ignore his phone calls…not on purpose. Cursing himself for waiting so long, for not trusting his gut, for not trusting his bond with Dean, he snatched his coat off the bed, shrugged into it as he left the room and began contemplating how to get to the bar his brother had said he was heading to that night.

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Dean came to with a headache, a dryness in his mouth like the Sahara and the disorientation of a very bad hangover. First thing that registered before he even opened his eyes was that he wasn't lying on a bed, knew the feel of dirt under his cheek from too many hunts gone wrong to miss it. Forcing his gummy eyes open, he saw the night sky over head, moon and stars giving the wrong impression, that everything was right in the world. Knowing that things were rarely, if ever, right in _his_ world, he rolled to his side even as he tried to piece together where he was and how he had gotten there.

Found that he was eyelevel with a ring of salt. That jolted him upright as if he had been hit with a cattle prod. Instantly, he took it all in: the fact that he was sitting on a dirt road with a ring of salt surrounding him, that the man who had arranged their unpleasant meet and greet at the bar was crouched a few yards away, and the man's green truck was parked three hundred feet down the desolate road. Lancing his glare at the man whose sharp eyes tracked him, he climbed to his feet growling, "I don't know what your game is…"

Almost lazily the man stood, raised his gun to sight on Dean's chest. "I'm not playing any games. And I wouldn't advise you stepping outside that ring. I'm inviting a guest for dinner." He kicked some dirt with his shoe and Dean watched the action in dread. Saw that the loose granules were covering up a freshly made hole in the dirt road.

Swiveling around inside the circle of salt, Dean was hit with the fact of just where he was and just how much trouble he was in. "Crossroads," he murmured, felt his gut clench at the memories of last time, of Sam dead and his willingness to barter away his soul. But beyond the grief was terror. Terror that was half way to unraveling any courage he could still claim. Because he knew where this was likely to lead, and, God help him, he didn't want to go back there. Not ever.

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TBC

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Thanks for continuing with me this far! And I really loved hearing from everyone about last chapter…it was what encouraged me to go ahead and get this chapter brushed up and posted!

And I'm just wondering, do we have any Boondock Saints movie fans in the crowd? I mentioned the first movie and wondered if anyone else caught another tribute to the movie that I slid in?

Have a wonderful evening!

Cheryl W.


	3. Chapter 3

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: You guys totally spoil me with your compliments!! In other words..I'm loving every single review! And I so should be getting ready for work now but I wanted to reward such kindness with another update. I'll simply tell my boss that I had to post another chapter to my SN story before….Second Thought….I'll just say I was running late.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

Chapter 3

The sight of the Impala should have dampened some of his worry…would have if the bar wasn't closed and the Impala was the lone vehicle in the parking lot. Exiting the car he had liberated from a convenience store a few yards from their motel, Sam stalked toward the Impala, reached out to open the door, ready for his brother's prize possession to deny him access.

An open door had never felt like a sign of doom before. With a litany of curses, he opened the door, leaned in, swallowed in relief when there was no blood staining the interior or the steering wheel. Being through, he looked over the seat and froze. His brother's wallet, cellphone and keys lay abandoned on the back seat cushions.

Quickly exiting the front seat, he nearly dove into the back, grabbed Dean's possession with cold hands. There were unmistakably Dean's. He went through the process of turning Dean's phone on, making sure it was working, that his brother hadn't tried to call him. Perfect working condition and no calls outgoing in the last two days. The blinking envelope in the corner was a mockery of his worry. Yeah, he knew whose voice was on there, sounding scared and trying to hide it.

Shoving Dean's possessions in his coat pocket, he shut the door, shone the flashlight along the Impala's side panels and doors and in the pavement by the car. No drops of what might be blood, no scratches on the paint or scuff marks on the pavement to indicate a fight. And honestly, he didn't know if that encouraged him or made him ready to lose his supper. Dean being taken without a fight?!? Surrendering his wallet, his phone…the keys to the Impala!?! Leaving the Impala unlocked?!? None of it was good.

Pulling his own phone out of his pocket, he dialed Bobby because he was lost here. They had gotten into town too late to start on the trail of the murders most likely committed by a shapeshifter. Hadn't ticked off any of the locals..yet. Were simply two guys crashing at the Crocodile Motel for the night. And if Dean had roused some of the local boys from the bar into a fighting mood? Them leaving Dean's wallet and keys in the Impala didn't make any sense. Felt someway personal, and yet clinical. Leaving behind the cellphone so it couldn't be tracked. Discarding the wallet proved that whatever this was, it wasn't about money. And tossing the keys into the Impala? That was almost an insult to Dean himself. Like they were dealing with someone who knew what the car meant to his brother. And all of it left here…maybe for him to find. Was like a sign on the Impala, 'I've got your brother and all you're going to be left with is his car.' Written in blood.

Bobby's voice was a balm to his raising panic though it was a half asleep grumble of "What?!"

"Someone's taken Dean," he breathlessly blurted out. Swallowed, knew to say more would be counterproductive if Bobby wasn't on the same page with him.

"Angels?" Bobby hazarded, his sleepiness starkly washed away to concern.

For once Sam wished it was a member of the heavenly host. "Cellphone, wallet and keys were left in the Impala."

"Ah, crap," Bobby sighed, knowing that those signs weren't good. At all. "Start at the beginning," he ordered because he never got in on the jump start on most to the boys' antics, was forced to play backup and then only when everything went awry. And that was _before_ he got himself crippled up and stuck sitting in a chair for the rest of his life. Now he figured he was pretty far down on Sam and Dean's lifeline list. So, as scared as he felt, he was relieved that Sam had called him, that he was allowed to be of some help, especially when one of the wonder twins got themselves kidnapped.

Sam drew in a breath, struggled to not snap back that they were wasting time, time that maybe Dean didn't have. But he trusted Bobby's instincts and insight, needed Bobby to know what he knew. "Got into town, didn't do anything but check in and Dean headed off for a drink at the local bar. I called him…he didn't answer so I checked out the bar, found the Impala unlocked with his stuff inside."

"Any signs of a struggle?" Bobby asked, pointedly didn't want to incite a visual of blood soaking the Impala's interior, like it had for real too many times in the recent past.

"None."

Bobby, having worked himself into an upright position in his bed, leaned heavily against the headboard. "Why does that sound like the bad news. You said the Impala was _unlocked_?!?" incredulousness in his tone.

"Yeah," Sam replied, felt the ominous flavor of the admission.

For a beat Bobby said nothing and neither did Sam, both trying not to panic. "Where are you?" the older hunter finally asked, had been out of touch with the Winchesters for a few days, didn't know what trail they were on.

"Florida, some small town off I95, Krafton. Was an article about some murders that sounded like a shapeshifter. But we didn't even start looking into it yet."

"I guess Cas is useless," Bobby drawled, was still torn between liking the angel and not after all the crap the angel had been party to. Course him not healing him had nothing to do with any resentment he harbored for the 'holy tax accountant', as Dean had called him in the beginning.

Truth was, Sam had thought about calling Cas too…until he realized Cas wouldn't be able to find Dean. Not since he had concealed Dean and himself from both of the apocalyptic teams. "The rib markings…"  
"Yeah, great idea that was," Bobby grumbled, wishing that the angel would have had the foresight to think that he might need to know where his charge was. A guardian angel who couldn't locate the person he was supposed to be protecting?! Genius thinking there.

"Beats the alternative," Sam was compelled to defend. Knew that, if he and Dean were beacons to whatever wanted to kill them…use them, they would have been so much worse off.

"Oh, you mean your brother going missing…" Bobby couldn't help sarcastically drawl, because now didn't seem like a great time for Sam to go all optimistic on them.

Shifting to his full height, hand tightening angrily on the cellphone, Sam shot back, "Bobby if I wanted to sit around panicking I could have done that on my own! I called you for _help_!"

Immediately Bobby felt shamed. "I know. I know," he contritely began. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just tired of this happening."

"Who isn't," Sam snapped back, hand coming to rest on the roof of the Impala, needing, in that moment, to have some kind of tie to his brother, something to ward off the hopelessness that was taking hold.

"Guess the bar's closed, no patrons to question," Bobby stated more than questioned.

"Right. No one and nothing to go on," Sam dejectedly confirmed.

And the kid's tone sliced through Bobby, made him remember how Sam had been after Dean died, how lost he had gotten without his brother. "Least there's no blood.." he offered, drudging up optimism solely for Sam's benefit.

But Bobby's words only ignited Sam's worry, made him think Bobby wasn't paying attention, was suddenly missing the biggest indicator that this was bad, so very bad. "He didn't struggle, Bobby! When is that a good sign?!"

"Hey don't bite my head off!" Bobby growled back, reprimanding himself for saying the wrong thing, for somehow making Sam feel worse.

"Then say something useful," Sam shot back as he climbed into the Impala, felt somehow better being inside the car than out, less vulnerable somehow.

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, wished he was as smart as Sam was counting on him being. His next question was quiet, almost gentle. "You think it was someone he knew? Someone that could have gotten the drop on him?"

"Seems…" Sam nearly choked on the next word, "personal." Boy did they know about personal and it always sucked. "Like they wanted me to find the car and Dean's stuff, to prove that they have him."

"Revenge? Blackmail?"

"Yeah, could be. Course the list is endless of who wants our head on a pike. Supernatural and human alike. As far as blackmail, bunch of hunters wanted me to use my powers to avenge one of their buddies' deaths when I was in Ohio."

Sam's last statement caught Bobby by surprise. "Hunters…"

"Yeah, they thought I would be able to ..I don't know, take out the whole possessed town or something if I got off the wagon," he snorted, wished that were true. That he could somehow undo what he had done. But then something clicked within him. "Wait, you have an idea. Who?" he demanded, a lethal threat unveiled for whoever took his brother.

"It doesn't make any sense…" Bobby said almost to himself, knowing that what he was thinking wasn't logical…even as he realized logic had little to do with grief.

Feeling hope for the first time, Sam pressured, "What doesn't?! Who?! Bobby any leads is better than nothing…"

"Hunter I know…he lost his brother couple weeks back. Was out of his head with grief, came here…I don't know..thought he was looking for a place to …" But he interrupted himself. "He asked if Dean really did a deal to get you back after you died…if it worked. If you came back being…_you_."

Sam's heart pounded in his chest, not liking the direction this was leading. "He wouldn't need Dean to do a crossroad deal," his breath coming out shallow, nearly panicked.

"Not if he was planning on playing it like Dean had, offering up his own soul for his brother's" Bobby said, hating that it was starting to make sense, hated more that it didn't mean they could stop it. "But Conor, he …" he hesitated, knew this wasn't the right time to open old wounds…wounds that could become fresh if the night didn't turn out like they wanted it to. But it was information Sam needed to know. "He said he saw you…after Dean died. That he had seen more life in a spirit's eyes than in yours. That the woman with you saved your life on the hunt…and you seemed more pissed than grateful for her interference."

At this revelation, Sam tilted his head, tried to recall the times his and Ruby's path had crossed with hunters. "What's this hunter's name again?"

"Conor…don't know his last name. Brother's…."

"Murphy," Sam supplied, remembered running into the brothers on the hunt. Had sat there and watched them laugh together, noted the way they looked at each other as if they didn't need words between them, saw the way they moved on the hunt, like they were an extension of each other, had a bond that couldn't be broken. It had made him ache for Dean so powerfully that it was hard not to put a gun to his head. "His brother's dead?" his words purposefully low, hoping Bobby didn't recognize the choked quality of them.

"Yeah, in a town overrun with possession. Connor watched his brother die in front of him. And those two were close…almost as close as…."

"What? Almost as close as Dean and I _used_ to be?" Sam cut in, indignation there and denial.

"Are, idgit," Bobby heatedly growled back. "Almost as close are you two knuckleheads are. Would-do-just-about-anything-for-each-other close."

Bobby's words eased something in Sam, that the older hunter could still tell how much he loved his older brother, no matter the crap they had gone though..that he had done and said. But then he focused back on the present, on his brother missing and the hunter he had once been so envious of somehow being involved. But the pieces weren't making much sense. "So Connor seeing me means what?"

"Means he's not going to put Murphy through what he saw Dean put you through. He won't barter his own soul away…" Bobby announced, conviction in his words and dread in his heart because he was just as certain that that wasn't the good news.

And Sam put it all together, almost too quickly. "He wants to offer them Dean in exchange for getting his brother back! Where do I find this guy, Bobby," and there was a deadliness in Sam's tone that even Bobby feared.

"He's a hunter, Sam! He's not in the white pages! And if he's taken Dean, he'll have ditched his phone like he did Dean's," Bobby's own frustration rivaling Sam's.

"Bobby I need to find Dean before Connor goes through with the deal! Any contact Connor has in Florida? Any place he holds up when he's here!"

"I don't know him that well, Sam!"

Sam gripped the Impala's steering wheel, was sick with dread. '_God, you got Dean out of hell, don't let him get sent back there. Help me! Just …help me_,' he silently pleaded, prayed, surprised how readily it came out of him, that he still had faith that there was a God and that He just might be still taking requests from him.

And then it came to him, a chance, a glimmer of hope: Cas. "Cas can track Connor," he hurriedly announced before he hung up on Bobby, called Castiel. And each ring that Cas didn't answer felt like he was again watching the second hand of that clock in New Harmony do a callus countdown to his brother's death. '_I'll stop it this time, Dean. I will. I have to.'_

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TBC

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Thanks for reading! I'll post more as soon as I clean up the slew of mistakes I saw I made on the next chapter and after my trusty Beta works her magic!

And glad there are some Boondock Saints fans out there! I'll PM those who mentioned it in their review to let them know my inside joke/tribute to those particular brothers.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	4. Chapter 4

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: I'm overwhelmed by the interest in this story!! Thanks! And you Boondock fans, sorry I didn't get time to PM you!! But I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my reference and inside joke of using the brothers' names for the hunter and his lost brother. Just when I thought of brothers as close as Dean and Sam, Connor and Murphy came to my mind.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

Chapter 4

He didn't consider himself a coward. But he had his limits, had learned that the hard way. Just like he had learned the difference between fearing the unknown and being down right terrified of the known. And Hell…he knew. Intimately.

Not for the first time, he thought a simple salt demarcation on the ground seemed a paltry line of defense. But, as he turned back to the hunter, he was exceedingly careful to not disturb the white barrier. Because paltry or not, it was the only leverage that the other hunter had…that _he_ had to make sure the game started with 'Let's Make a Deal' instead of going straight to another installment of 'One Thousand Ways to Die: Starring Dean Winchester.' Having played both games before, Dean was more than ready to go to a commercial break.

Swallowing, he met the other man's haunted eyes, knew that they were both scared, desperate, that both of their lives hung in the balance of what happened where the two roads under their feet merged. "Listen," Dean began, his voice quiet, purposefully without inflection of anger or fear, "I know how you feel …" because if any one did, it was him. But his empathy only created a lethal backlash in the other man's eyes.

Stalking toward Dean, the hunter hurled words full of hate and anguish. "Don't! You got your brother back!" He came to a halt at the salt line, as if the ward worked on him too, stood there with grief and rage and desperation in his eyes as they seared into Dean's. "You got him back and I'm getting Murphy back! You think you're the only one who loves his brother, would do anything for him?! You think you _Winchesters_ are the only ones worthy of getting a second chance!?"

"No, I don't think that," Dean lowly returned, had never associated Sam's or his second chances with _worth_. "But if you cross this line, there's no going back. And it might not seem like it costs you anything, but it will. Trust me, I know that first hand."

The hunter shook his head, gave a bitter laugh, drawled mockingly, "A moral lesson from Dean Winchester." But then any fabricated humor fled under the man's condemnation. "Excuse me if I don't listen to the advice of the man whose _Dad_ gave away the Colt, to the guy who crossed a thousand lines no _good man _should to save his brother, to one of the _hunters_ who let the devil's gate get opened, the _gutless wonder _who stood by and let the apocalypse roll into town."

The man's words cut deep…and true. Clenching his jaw a moment, Dean nodded, pulled on a smirk. "Guess you got my number." But then he stepped closer to the other hunter, as close as he could without crossing the pathetic safety of the salt line. "So why do you want to follow in my footsteps, huh? You think your brother will be proud of you…consorting with the enemy! Making a _deal_. From personal experience, I can tell you that there's not a lot of gratitude heading your way."

"Murphy.." when the other hunter choked on his brother's name, Dean's own throat tighten with tears. He knew this pain, knew what crazy thoughts grief unleashed, knew desperation like this.

"Murphy can be as pissed as he likes…long as he's alive."

"And I'm dead," Dean concluded but he could see that he wasn't going to sway the other man's mind…anymore than someone could have swayed his after Sam had died. Hard eyes searing into the hunter's, he accepted his fate. "Fine, you do what you got to do. But no matter what, you leave Sam alone, you owe me that." Felt relieved and shredded when the other man offered up a solemn vow.

"You're right. No harm will come to your brother, you have my word," Connor pledged, knew that it was the least he owed Winchester. He would do his best to protect Sam in his big brother's absence, an absence that would be his fault. But the guilt he felt, it was a drop in the ocean compared to the need he had to get his brother back.

Dean found that he trusted the other man's word, that there was some honor to be upheld between them, between men who fiercely loved their brothers. "And I don't want him finding out about this, ever. You hear me?!" he harshly demanded, had come to realize that revenge was his brother's addiction more so than the blood ever could be. Thought it might just be a family compulsion, passed down from their father. But he prayed that, if Sam didn't have a target to hate this time, he could simply let it end, let him go. "You make that part of your deal, that Sam doesn't learn what happened to me. Or I'll crawl out of hell just to kill your brother. Slow and painful…just like they do it in hell. And trust me, once I'm done with him, he wouldn't be coming back..ever," he darkly promised, knew that his own taste for revenge, when it was fully awakened, could be just as sharp as his brother's and father's.

For the first time, there was a flicker of indecision in the other hunter's eyes…fear. And instead of voicing his agreement, he simply nodded his head. Found that, as incredulous as Dean Winchester's threat sounded, he believed the other hunter would find a way to accomplish it. Knew that, when it came to loyalty to their brother, brothers could do..would do the impossible. '_Like what I'm about to do..sacrifice another hunter's life for Murphy's life,_' he thought as he stepped back from Dean Winchester, wanting to distance himself from the other man suddenly, from the coldness in his eyes. But there was no regret in his soul for what he was about to do, no wavering in his resolve to do what he had to do to return his brother to him.

He felt the crossroad dealmaker's presence before she spoke.

"Ah …you came bearing gifts. You know the way to my heart, sweet Connor," the striking brunette woman purred, her high heels digging into the dirt of the road as she sauntered toward Connor and his hostage, her red, low cut shimmering evening gown out of place in the desolate location. She smiled wider at the thinly disguised disgust in Connor's eyes and the fight in Dean's. "I wore my best dress in celebration." She came to a stop by Connor, reached up and let her fingers trace down the man's cheek, laughed throatily as the man flinched under her touch, nearly shivered. Her eyes went to Dean's, "He doesn't have your legendary bravery but he's got just enough to do what he must."

"Yeah, I'm proud of him. Real credit to Team Hunters. Go Team," Dean lowly said, not allowing his fear to reflect to the she-witch before him. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Darkly knew that that would come later: The screaming, the groveling, the willingness to do anything to make the agony stop…even for a second.

As the memories assailed him, Dean broke out into a cold sweat, found that, maybe Cas had the right idea, believing in God. '_If You're out there listening, I need some serious help about now. I'll take back the crack about you kicking back with a tropical drink..or on a tortilla shell. Just…help me 'cause I mean, you're the ultimate Good Guy. You help even screwed up people like me, right?'_

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Thanks for reading! And I'm really enjoying your reactions to the story line!

And I'm busy cleaning up the next section and I'm hoping I can post it "soon."

Have a wonderful evening!

Cheryl W.


	5. Chapter 5

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

Chapter 5

Castiel answered his phone on the third ring. "Hello Sam," his tone sounding as if it was divine knowledge that allowed him to know who was calling him and not the caller ID flashing on his phone.

"A hunter took Dean to make a crossroad's deal. You need to find the other hunter. His name's Connor…had a brother who just died, Murphy. Get me there, now!" Sam's words were all rush and demand, left no room for greetings or discussions.

Castiel felt his vessels' muscles tighten, felt a tightness in his chest, had come to realize that that physical reaction indicated the emotion of worry…and frustration. "I can't simply locate a soul among the multitude…"

"Florida, at a crossroads, on a backroad," Sam snapped, not up to playing Castiel's game of '_For 100 dollars, I'll take 'What are an angel's capabilities" Alex_.' "A few hours' radius from the town of Krafton," he qualified, knew that would speed up the process. Had to.

"Sam I.." Cas began, needing to explain that even if he wasn't cut off from heaven, there were limitations to what he could do.

"Don't tell me you can't! Just do it, Cas!" Sam's booming voice echoed through the phone. "Unless you got another trip to Hell and back in you! Because I'm not losing Dean again. I'm not!"

Needing no real experience with humans, let alone the Winchester to determine the edge Sam was teetering on, Cas solemnly requested, "Alright, give me a few moments." A part of him indignant that Dean's brother didn't know that he would do everything in his power to find Dean, that he valued Dean, had done the most unthinkable by defying heaven because he believed in Dean's righteousness. But he didn't defend himself, simply set to the task that seemed necessary so very often: to keep Dean Winchester alive.

Sam bit his lip, let silence carry as Castiel did his thing. He hadn't realized that he wasn't taking in a breath until Castiel spoke, then his taut nerves allowed his burning lungs to gulp in air.

"I believe I have it."

"I'm in Krafton at Phil's bar. Come get m..…" He hurriedly began to order but Castiel was there in the passenger seat of the Impala before he was done speaking. Immediately, Castiel reached out to him and placed his finger on his forehead.

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Side stepping Connor, the crossroad dealmaker took three slow, almost theatrically predator like steps before stopping millimeters from the edge of the line of salt. "Hell's been looking for a replacement for Alistair. You don't see talent like his often. We will be .._blessed_," she smirked at her own joke, "to get you to fill his shoes." She was surprised when Connor came to her side, dared to grip her arm, snarled, "You don't get him until you bring Murphy back. All in one piece, with no taint of your kind. No strings attached. Dean for Murphy."

The woman smiled slowly, caressingly slid her hand behind Connor's neck. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready to make a deal," she said as she drew closer, her lips aiming for his.

"Connor you're getting what you want! Remember your promise to me about Sam!" Dean thundered, hands fisted, boot inching closer to the salt line. He was ready to sacrifice himself just to make sure the hunter didn't get his deal sealed, not if the man wasn't going to honor his request to safeguard Sam from knowing his fate.

Her lips nearly pressing against his own, Connor pulled back, felt his own breath eaten up by the facade of a beautiful woman that stood in front of him. He could do this for the other man, could have mercy on the brothers he had once idolized. "Sam Winchester, you have to promise he never learns of his brother's fate. Not from you or any of your other cronies," he adamantly requested, meeting her amused eyes steadily.

She didn't protest the new condition, didn't even pause in consenting to it. Was too anxious to get Dean Winchester at her mercy, was already reveling in the reward she would get for being the one to kill him and send him back downstairs. "I promise, sweatheart. No one will breath a word about Dean…" her eyes cut to Dean, "not topside anyway. He'll be all the talk in hell. Like a homecoming, the return of the prodigal son. And boy the party they'll throw for you…it will leave you screaming."

Connor felt cold fear fist in his heart, couldn't imagine what he was consigning Dean to …couldn't think on that. Focused on Murphy alone. On getting his brother back. He waited until the woman's eyes settled back on him before he spoke, voice raw but convicted. "Then let's deal. Dean Winchester for my brother, alive and well."

"You won't regret this," the woman purred as she drew Connor's lips toward hers.

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Sam struggled to not reel at being in the Impala one second and standing on a dirt road the next second. But the sight of his brother snapped everything in place. "Dean!" he called out, starting forward to reach his brother's side. But then, he forced himself to see more than his brother, alive and well. To register that Connor was bending down to kiss a woman, was willingly sealing a deal that would send his brother to hell all over again. "No!" he shouted, charging forward even as he pulled his gun, took aim at the other hunter.

A wall of flames sprung up in front of him, halting his forward motion and robbing him of his view of Connor and of his brother. He gave a guttural growl as he lowered his gun, knew that he couldn't take a blind shot, not when he could hit Dean. "Connor don't do this!! You know this is wrong!"

At the arrival of uninvited guests, the woman reacted instantly, like she expected such an intrusion to her good fortune. Had, with one hand gesture, ignited flames around her crossroad dominion to keep human and angel out alike. "Sorry Sam and Castiel, your business with Connor will have to wait until mine's done," she playfully taunted, had always prided herself on being so much smarter than her predecessors. Honestly they had deserved their fate if they were stupid enough to let some humans, good looking as they were, get the drop on them. She winked at Dean. "And then of course, my business with your brother will just start, Sam. You might be able to make your own deal. Though that's not one I can broker, I think you're on intimate terms with my CEO. I'm sure you two can work something out."

"No, Sam!!" Dean thundered, eyes on the flames at the spot where he knew Sam stood behind. Didn't want his brother even _thinking_ about offering himself up as a vessel just to free him. "I made it in hell before, I'll do it again. Don't you dare say yes to that _thing. _You do that and I would rather stay in _hell_ than see what happens to you…to see that all we fought for, what Dad and Mom and her parents died for was for _nothing_. You don't make that deal, not for me…not for anyone or for any goal, you hear me Sam?!!"

His brother's words reached Sam, pierced him sharper than a knife. "Dean…" he begged for Dean to see his point of view, to know that letting him go, losing him again, it was worse than saying yes for him. Was the worst that could be done to him. That the consequences his choice had for anyone other than Dean wouldn't matter to him. Family came first.

Castiel stood before the fire, having attempted to fling the crossroad woman without success, he understood that he was also locked out from crossing the fire wall. That he had indeed been expected. Fisting his hands in frustration, he called out to the one participate that could stop this. "Connor, your brother gave his life trying to stop the spread of evil. If you do this, if you sentence Dean to hell, you'll set things in motion that will defeat good. Forever." Because he still believed Dean was the key to victory, doubted too that Sam wouldn't take up the path he had traveled before in the absence of his brother. Had found that the souls of the two brothers? They were bound together, that there were consequences if they should become separated, that if one became lost…the other would not be strong enough to continue the fight.

Connor had heard rumors about an angel taking up with the Winchesters, had thought it was drunk talk. But Sam's sudden appearance with the trenchcoat clad man at his side, it made the notion of an angel not seem so farfetched. And the man..the angel spoke with authority, as if he knew the future…knew Murphy. "I want my brother back!" he called, eyes shifting from the woman at his side to the wall of flames. "Bring him back and I won't make the deal."

Castiel felt Sam Winchester's eyes on him, could see the rapid in and out of the man's breath, knew that the young man knew his limitations and was still pleading for him to save Dean. "I don't have the power to restore your brother to life. But you have the power to honor his memory."

"Memory!? I don't want a memory! I want him back, alive, here! Why do the Winchesters deserve to be with each other and we don't!?! We've fought evil nearly our whole lives? Saved hundreds of lives?! And this is how it ends? Bloody?! Me alone!?" Connor railed against the cruelty of his fate, of the harsh reward for a life that had been devoted to saving others.

The man's words cut through Sam's heart like an axe. He had come to take for granted what he and Dean had gone through to be alive…to be together. Had let bickering, and egos and agendas separate them..even when they were standing right beside each other. Knew then how foolish they had both been to not cherish each other, to not fight for each other instead of against each other.

Love for his brother flared in Sam, made him realize that there wasn't anything, anything he wouldn't do for Dean, to keep Dean out of hell. Realized too that, if Connor felt even half as much loyalty to his own brother, he wouldn't back down from making the deal. "I'll hunt Murphy down, Connor. If you make this deal, your brother's as good as dead anyway. And trust me, there will no getting him back," he threatened, his voice a low, menacing sound, unaware that his threat mirrored Dean's earlier one.

Dean stilled at Sam's threat, didn't doubt that his brother would fulfill it, had come to see Sam's moral code in a less biased light since his return, knew what his brother was capable of. Sam would do murder because he loved him, would seek revenge because, in the light of overwhelming grief, it was what motivated a Winchester, kept them living instead of checking themselves out of this life. He looked to Connor, knew that the cards were in the man's hands, knew that, if the same cards were in his own, he would still bet the house. With stark realism, he could envision Sam saying yes…understood now why future Sam had surrendered. Because, for them, living without each other, it wasn't living.

Frantically, Sam pulled off his coat, lowly ordered to Cas, "Give me your coat."

Not knowing Sam's plan and yet, having learned that it was best to just stand out of a determined Winchester's way, Castiel shrugged out of his coat, obediently handed it to Sam.

Pulling Ruby's knife from his belt loop and gripping it tight, Sam pulled Cas's coat over his head and held his own coat in front of him like it were armor. Then he ran toward the wall of flames, ready and willing to burn alive rather than let his brother burn forever.

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Thanks for reading and for your wonderful encouragement!

Have an awesome day!

Cheryl W.


	6. Chapter 6

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

Chapter 6

Diving through the flames, Sam felt the coats catch fire as he went, relinquished them to the inferno as he hit the ground, tucked into a forward roll. Fluidly he came to his feet even as he determined that his target was exactly where he projected she would be. With a growl, he sank the knife into the crossroad dealmaker's back just as her lips hovered above Connor's, watched the lightshow of her death with satisfaction and relief. Ripping the knife free, he watched the body drop to the ground, saw the protective wall flare higher before its licking flames began to ebb.

Connor had stood there, stunned, as Sam Winchester came through the ring of fire like a well trained but lethal tiger. But, having been a hunter too long to let the unexpected slow his reflexes down for long, he had already devised a contingency plan when Winchester's knife found its mark. Spinning around, finger coming to rest on the trigger of his gun, he found that Dean was already charging for him. He pulled the trigger a second before he was within Dean's reach.

Dean grunted in surprised pain as the bullet hit his leg. Then his leg crumbled under him, dropping him to the ground.

Quickly reaching the downed man, Connor grabbed a handful of Dean's shirt, intending to pull Winchester to his feet and use him as hostage and protection alike. But he had underestimated the other hunter, was unprepared when Dean simultaneously grabbed his gun hand, unleashed a leg sweep and a delivered a right cross to his jaw. Unbalanced, he fell to the right, landed on top of Dean, sending them both slamming into the dirt and his gun bouncing from his grip.

At the sound of the gunshot, Sam's head snapped up, panic, fear and confusion vying for supremacy. In horror, he watched Dean collapse. As he pulled his gun out, he cursed himself for not realizing that Connor was a threat. He had Connor dead to rights when the other hunter fell under his brother's assault, literally. Tracking Connor with his gun sight, he removed his finger from the trigger as Connor and Dean became a tangle of arms and legs as they tussled on the ground. He quickly raised his gun when, at one point in their struggle, he found he was aiming at his brother's back. Jaw clenched, he stalked forward, ready to physically drag Connor away from his brother.

Weakened by the gunshot wound but highly pissed over it too, Dean allowed his anger and adrenaline free reign. Fought wildly, returned body and face blows with Connor. Ignored the pain, not only of his leg but the stinging in his face, the hits his torso had taken and the cuts on his fists from his own counterattack. Punching Connor on the ear, he rolled them right, grunted at Connor's punch to his side even as he came out on top. Was pulling back his fist to deliver another punch when Connor pressed a knife to his throat, hard.

Dean froze. Could see in Connor's eyes no mercy. Saw only desperation and the faltering of his floodgate of raging grief.

"Get up," Connor hissed, could see the refusal in Dean's eyes. Tightening his white knuckled grip on the knife, he pressed the blade harder into the other man's flesh until blood seeped onto the blade, dripping down onto his own chest. "Stand. Up. Slow," he lethally ordered.

"Let him go!" Sam thundered, stepping forward, ready to kill, with as much disdain as he had the dealmaker, the man that was threatening his brother's life.

"Stay back!" Connor shouted, pressing the knife blade further into Dean's skin.

Stiffening in pain, Dean's breath hitched, found that the blade made swallowing a dangerous proposition.

Noting Dean's reaction of pain, Sam rage spiked almost as high as his fear but he halted his advance, even as his finger tightened on the trigger.

"Get. Up!" Connor bellowed, pushing the knife up, leaving Dean the choice of standing up or having the knife slice through his neck.

Releasing his left hand's grip on Connor's shirt, Dean raised his hands in a sign of surrender and started to climb to his feet, faltered as he mistakenly put pressure on his wounded leg. But Connor took up his slack, was on his feet, spinning him around and pulling him back against his chest as a shield and hostage against Sam before Dean could resist.

Turned so that he faced Sam, Dean saw Sam tightened his grip on the gun, knew his brother was trying to get a clear shot of Connor. Couldn't miss the boiling rage in his brother's eyes anymore than he could the stark fear. Wished he wasn't some leverage every bad guy knew to use against Sam.

Arm coiled around Dean's chest, keeping the man upright and tight against his chest, Connor pulled the man back a few paces, was careful to remain completely behind the protective armor of the man's six foot frame. Saw the anxious flare in Sam's eyes as his brother was drawn further away from him.

Gun trying to sight a piece of Connor to target, Sam menacingly promised, "You're not leaving with him."

"Oh, he's not leaving. Not with me," Connor ominously countered, hoping that the ring of salt was still intact as he maneuvered back Dean into its midst. "We're going to wait right here until another one shows up. I'm going to make the deal and you won't stop me this time."

The threat turned Sam's blood to ice. It wasn't like the decisive revenge when he killed Alistair or even Lilith. Was more the red hot, sharp tang of rage when he beheaded Gordon after he nearly killed Dean, right in front of him. He took a step forward, terror and rage overriding any cool headedness he had. It was only Dean's sharp intake of pained breath that brought him to a stop, hands trembling on the knife and the gun in his grasp as he watched blood run down Connor's knife blade in rivulets. His brother's blood. His eyes met Dean's and it made it worse, that Dean was telling him to stand down, that it was going to be OK. Made his next words come out a choked whisper instead of an irrefutable statement, "I'll stop you," forcing his eyes to leave Dean's and settle on Connor.

"You'll _try_," Connor shot back harshly.

Realizing that the other man's determination to succeed matched his own resolve for him to fail, Sam vowed, spitting the words out like venom, "I'll hunt you down, you and Murphy. And I won't stop! Not until you're both dead."

Feeling like bloodshed was imminent between Sam and Connor, Dean raised his hands in supplication. "Whoa! Whoa! No one has to die here today," Dean hurriedly stated, not sure who he needed to convince more: Sam or Connor.

"My brother already died!" Connor lowly accused, words hissed by Dean's ear. "Why should it end any differently today for me? Or for you," he threatened, knife digging into flesh farther, sickly pleased at Dean's moan of pain. He couldn't believe that he had been so close to getting his brother back and now it seemed out of his reach. Because of the Winchesters. Because of two brothers that should be his allies, that should understand, if anyone did, that he couldn't go on without his brother. Didn't want to. Spitefully, he vowed to take Dean with him if he died. Wanted Sam to know, again, the agony of being without his brother. "You two should be dead! Not my brother, " he bellowed as the last threads of his control slipped their mooring, set him adrift where murder seemed justifiable.

Discerning the man's intentions, Sam eyes went wide with panic. Knew with grim certainty that if didn't take his shot now, he would lose Dean forever. Raising his gun, he began to squeeze the trigger.

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Thanks for reading! And I am still amazed at your reviews! Thank you!

Because I had to do some reworking of the action in this chapter, I need to make some adjustments to what follows. So I'm hoping that you don't mind if the next chapter takes a little more time to get posted.

Hope you're still enjoying the tale.

Have a great evening!

Cheryl W.


	7. Chapter 7

A Page Out of Their Book

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: When Dean's taken, Sam realizes that there are no lines that some brothers won't cross for each other. No Slash.

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Chapter 7

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"Do not be conquered by evil, but conquer evil with good. " ~ Romans 12-21

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Raising his gun, Sam began to squeeze the trigger, prayed that his aim would be even truer than it had been when he had been forced to shoot his possessed father.

But mid motion, he froze..or was froze. Found he couldn't move, saw that Connor and Dean were statue still too. When he felt movement behind him, he feared the worst. But it was Castiel, without his familiar trenchcoat, his pants and white shirt soiled with soot, who stepped between the threesome, faced Connor.

"Grieve for your brother but follow the path that he would have traveled, that you would have wanted him to travel at your side," Castiel imparted to Connor, his voice calm, knowing, compassionate. "There is a season for all things, for death and for life, for victory and for loss. And now, there is a great need for righteous men, for someone to aid those who can not aid themselves. That is your destiny, was your brother's. That has not changed. You are needed," Castiel stated, couldn't help but let his eyes slip to Dean's. Wanted Dean to know that the words were for him too. That his own need for Dean to live, to continue to fight, to be a light onto righteousness, it still remained. Unable to quite read the look in Dean's eyes, he looked again to Connor. "When your brother left this life, he believed that you would continue to fight the war that he died trying to win. Are you willing to destroy the faith he has in you?" his words not an accusation but a quiet, gentle query.

The angel's words, the compassion in the angel's eyes broke Connor. Finding that he could move, he lowered his trembling hand, withdrew the knife from Dean's flesh. Releasing Dean, he took a step back. With tremors wracking him, he sank to the ground in the middle of the crossroad, allowed himself to truly mourn for the loss of his brother. He didn't even try to hold back his sob. Knew it was time to accept that his brother was gone..and he wasn't coming back. That his duty, it was as it had always been: to make his brother proud of him. In death as he had tried to do in life.

When Connor released Dean, Sam instantly stepped forward, replaced the hunter's forceful touch with his own tender one, caught Dean by the shoulders when his brother stumbled after asking too much from his injured leg. Reaching out, he carefully tilted Dean's head up with his fingers. Inspecting the cut, he scowled at the blood sliding down his brother's neck.

"It's fine. Had shaving accidents that drew more blood," Dean downplayed, lifting his chin to dodge Sam's inspection but not making a move to distance himself from Sam.

Not bothering to dispute his brother's claim, Sam maneuvered to Dean's right side, ordered, "Hang onto me" even as he grabbed Dean's hand and placed it on his shoulder. Then he bent down slowly to examine his brother's leg, felt Dean's hand tighten on his shoulder as his support shifted. He reached out, lightly touched the bloody denim of his brother's jeans just below the knee. Leaning closer, he inspected the damage, slid his fingers into the hole in the fabric, felt Dean's leg muscle spasm even at his feather light touch. His fingers came out wet with his brother's blood. "Seems like the bullet just nicked you," he passed on, exhaling in relief. He came to his feet slowly, hoping to not dislodge Dean's precarious balance. Knew that, Dean keeping his hand on his shoulder after that? It wasn't about needing a crutch. Was more about needing proof that they had made it through another battle. Were both still standing. Relatively speaking.

With him and Sam only inches away from Connor's despairing figure, Dean felt they were adding insult to injury to the other hunter: Sam's blatant concern for him, the relief that was washing over him, the pure elation he felt that he and Sam were together, that this time they weren't being separated. And part of him wanted to turn to Connor and offer up some kind of consolation. And part of him wanted to pretend the man's grief didn't exist, to deny that it was any fault of his that Connor had lost his brother. Wished, somehow, that Connor could get his own brother back.

'_But not at the cost of my life_,' Dean honestly stipulated, most of the guilt he felt for that thought washed away when he compared it to the consequences if he left again. Not for him but for Sam. Because, though Sam had tried to make him see how he had felt after he died, when he was left alone, nothing had exposed it better than the look in Sam's eyes when their eyes met before the flames rose, when Connor was threatening to kill him: Stark fear, irrepressible panic and a well of grief that seemed fathomless. No, he would not put his brother through that. Not again. Not for anyone. Not even for a man suffering a loss he understood only too well.

Seeing the shadow of guilt in Dean's eyes, Sam gripped Dean's arm and pulled him further away from Connor, as if mere distance could prevent the man from further hurting his brother ..in any way. "We should leave. He might be right about a replacement showing up," he said, his words soft, as if Dean were in shock. Maybe was in as much shock as he was after coming too close to losing Dean, of Dean being returned to hell.

Sliding his eyes past Dean to Castiel, their way home, Sam saw the angel was standing over Connor, a comforting hand on the grieving man's shoulder and compassion in his blue eyes. Wasn't sure if he was angry with the angel for his forgiving action or grateful that someone could offer the man some comfort. Because, as much as he knew the shattering agony of losing a brother, he couldn't offer this man forgiveness…or compassion.

When his brother's features tightened, Dean turned around to see what generated the conflicting emotion in his brother's eyes, subconsciously registering that Sam wasn't relinquishing his possessive hold on his arm. The sight made his own emotions spike. The other hunter, broken, angel over him, the last strand of hope that his brother would be returned to him severed, it hurt to see. "That could be us. _Should_ be us," Dean quietly said, gut churning at that thought. At all the second chances they had gotten…when others had not. At the fault that could be laid at their feet for so many lives lost and shattered.

"Was us, Dean. More times than our share," Sam returned, bitterness in his tone, at all they had gone through, at all the dark paths he had walked to get right where he was, standing beside his brother. "But it won't be us again," he stated with conviction, eyes finding Dean's. "Gabriel was wrong about us, about our destiny. No matter what he did, we stuck together, came out of his games more determined than ever to fight for each other, at each other's backs."

Raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in agreement, Dean returned, "Yeah, the whole Lavern and Shirley thing we did was a real bonding time for me too."

Sam laughed and nudged Dean with his shoulder, "You're a jerk. Don't know why I keep saving your butt."

"'Cause I'm awesome to be around," Dean boasted back. Sam's snort was the best thing he had heard in a long while.

Both smiled, glad that some of their bantering was returning along with a light of hope in their eyes.

Then Castiel was there, beside them, his intent gaze settling on the brothers. "It's not safe to remain here any longer."

Dean's eyes drifted to Connor, who hadn't risen from his knees. "We shouldn't leave him like this."

"He has decisions to make of his own," Castiel stated in his angel-knows–something-you-don't way of his.

"Is he going to be alright?" Dean quietly asked, eyes turning back to Cas, earnestly wanting the truth. Though Castiel met his probing gaze steadily, the angel did not answer right away, seemed to be weighing his words.

Sam marveled at the fact that there was true concern in Dean's tone, concern for the man that had been willing to send him back to hell. '_For the man that was going to hurt me in ways that dying never could.' _Because part of him remembered dying in Cold Oak, that feeling of being unable to hang on, of knowing that he was leaving Dean. But somehow, it had been OK, because Dean was there, was holding him, wasn't dead like he had feared he was.Now, after having lived through the opposite, of being the one left behind, he knew that he would rather die at Dean's side rather than live without his brother. That if Connor had succeeded today with his deal, he would have sealed the fate of both Winchesters.

Castiel faltered in replying to Dean's question, knew that it would hurt Dean. Because Dean? He was more than just the last ally that he had in the world. The man had come to feel like one of his brothers, was someone he would stand and fight beside, to the death. Had, in fact.

Knowing that a large part of their connection was about trust, Dean's trust in him, Castiel could do nothing less than answer his friend truthfully. "He lost his brother, Dean. I think you both know that there will be dark days ahead for him." His eyes skimming to Sam's, he could see the flicker of remembered grief there. Had come to see Sam in a new light through this. Could start to comprehend some of the motives behind the choices that the younger Winchester had made after his brother's death and since his return. "I do not know the choices he will make," he quietly added, head bowing, not wanting his words to convey condemnation to Sam. Not this time. Not again.

But it wasn't indignation or denial that flared in Sam but fear, his thoughts solely on his brother, on keeping his brother from harm. "You mean he could come after Dean again!?" he demanded, voice rising, beginning to reach for the gun he had tucked in the small of his back. Dean's hand stopped his grab and his eyes collided with his brother's.

"Sam, don't," Dean ordered, didn't want Sam to go down that path, to be an executioner. Not even for him.

"Dean, he's a threat to you," Sam countered harshly, hackles raised at the thought of letting a true threat stand, like he had Gordon. Gordon, who had kidnapped Dean once and had later tried to sever the artery in Dean's neck…with his teeth. '_No, the only good enemy is a dead one_,' he darkly thought, made to go around Dean but his brother stepped into his path. His brother's hand bunched in his shirt as his eyes unflinchingly locked with his.

"Sam, we've always had more enemies than friends. Even before all the 'end of the world' stuff began. What matters most is….us. That we got us. You and me. That we stand together," Dean pointed out, knew after coming face to face with the real prospect of going back to hell, of dying, what would have hurt the most..was being without his brother. Because, even when his bond with Sam had seemed shattered into a thousand pieces, part of it had remained intact. Enough of it for them to take out Ruby as a team. More than enough for them to stand, shoulder to shoulder, when the grand marshal of hell came knocking on their door. Had thought at that moment that, if they were going to die, at least they were dying together. And that had been comfort enough for him.

Though the road since then had been like driving the Impala through a hurricane, one handedly and blind, they were still shoulder to shoulder. Had found that, what they had between them, it was worth fighting for, that their united front on the "just say no" vessel issue was soldering together the cracks in their bond, cracks that, with each round of the Trickster's tvland marathon had begun to heal. Because Sam was right. The more Gabriel tried to prove that they couldn't stay together..the more determined they were to do just that.

Sam felt tears well, felt his chest tighten, not with grief but with warmth, with love, with the knowledge that he and Dean, they weren't back the way they were before but they weren't giving up on each other either. Knew that, losing the war, losing each other again, it would be the end of them both. That there could be no victory, not if it wasn't shared between them. Win or lose, saying yes or saying no, they would do it together. That was their true destiny: brotherhood from start to finish.

Sam gave a shaky laugh, "Better watch it, Dean. You're sounding like one of those sport movies with the over the top 'go team' speech right before the final game.'

Dean smirked around his "bite me." Then he felt Cas shift on his feet at his side. He almost laughed at the angel's quiet entreaty to be part of them, of their fight. Didn't quite know how to break it to Cas that he was already one of them, had been for a long while now.

Keeping his hand latched around Dean's elbow, Sam bent down and picked something off the ground that was still smoking. Shaking it, he held it out to the angel. "Thank you, Cas," he sincerely said, gratitude for saving his brother shining in his eyes as they met the angel's. The words were inadequate for the depth of his feelings but it seemed the only worthy thing he could offer to someone of Cas' stature.

The friendly interaction between his brother and the angel, it was something Dean hadn't witnessed in a long while, not really since Sam's awe of angels had fled. But the scene, it lessen some tension in him, left him hopeful that he wasn't going to have to play referee anymore for them. He knew, from first hand experience with playing that role between Sam and his father, that being the man in the middle sucked, big time. He snagged the coat from Sam's grasp before Cas could retrieve it. "Wow, Cas. Allowing Sammy to turn your favorite coat into a 'smoking jacket'?! That shows some real devotion to our cause," he joked as he made a show of inspecting the jacket that was in smoking tatters.

Snatching the trenchcoat from Dean's grasp, Castiel leveled a dark eyed glare at the man's smirking features. Then, with a show of almost smugness, he pulled on the coat, loved that Dean's smirk faded to disbelief when the coat was restored to its perfect condition as was the rest of his attire.

In awe, Dean stepped forward, grabbed the lapel of Cas' coat and then he raised his eyes to the angel's. "_This_ you can fix. But you couldn't step in today before…I don't know..say before I Got Shot!" he growled, miffed at the notion that Cas was being choosy when or if he offered them his help. Was sick at the thought that Cas might still consider them a project, to be molded and shaped.

Indignation flared in Castiel at Dean's accusation that he had _allowed_ him to be hurt, had not wanted to protect him. Stepping into Dean's personal space, he lowly growled back, "Do you actually think she was strong enough to keep me out on her own?" And he saw the surprise spark in Dean's eyes as logic took hold. "She had the power of others aid her. So yes, her death weakened the barrier but I had to _force_ my way through it."

And it made sense, Cas's words. Even Alistair hadn't been powerful enough to built a ward to keep Cas away. They had instead had to duke it out between them, mono-a-mono…well sort of but on a super rumble scale. Placating, Dean raised his hand, "Alright, alright. I believe you. Don't get your shorts in a knot.."

"I'm not wearing any shorts," Catiel bit back, not quite ready to make nice.

"Well, then your underw…" but Dean stopped, shook his head and smirked. "You know what? Even I'm not going there." But the look Cas leveled at him wasn't amused, far from it. He was about to thank the angel in earnest when Cas spoke.

"We need to leave. Now," Castiel stated with urgency, sensing that they were not safe, not where they were, not with hell's minions knowing Dean's exact location at that moment.

"No arguments from me. I've seen more crossroads than I can stomach," Dean drawled even as Cas simultaneously laid his fingers on his and Sam's foreheads.

"Amen on that one," Sam agreed, finding himself standing beside the Impala, his brother at his side, before he finished speaking. Doing a quick visual sweep, he determined that Cas wasn't there with them.

"He does that. Disappears on you. You'll get used to it…or not," Dean mumbled, exchanging Sam's support for the Impala's shiny black frame's. Opening the back door of the Impala, he came up short at the empty seat. His cellphone, wallet and keys were gone. He was about to begin ranting when, as if he had conjured them up, his keys were dangled over his shoulder and rattled. But when he reached for them, they were yanked out of his vision.

Turning around, Dean found Sam watching him intently, almost like he had the first couple of days after Mystery Spot. Like his brother couldn't believe he was there and wasn't leaving him. Suddenly, he couldn't understand how he and Sam had ever come to true blows, how he could have even _contemplated _carving out a life without his brother in it.

"Sammy, thanks for saving me," he said, eyes on his brother, knew that whatever gratitude he owed Cas, he owed Sam more. "I know that we've been…well…arguing seems too mild a word. And I know you think I don't respect you as a hunter but…Sam, no one else would have found me but you. No other hunter would have put the pieces together. And I don't know a single guy who would have called on an angel, taken out a crossroad's harpy and threatened to ventilate a fellow hunter for me except for you."

Sam shook his head at his brother's colorful descriptions even as he almost blushed under Dean's praise. But he found he couldn't match Dean's words with levity. Not after fearing the worst. "Well Connor's not the only one who knows what it's like to lose a brother." Bowing his head, he felt nervous about what he wanted to say next, knew it could open old wounds. But he needed to tell Dean what was running through his head, for Dean to know that, for as lost as he had been, he had never stopped being Dean's brother. Swallowing, he forced himself to meet Dean's eyes. His voice was husky when he spoke. "And even after we fought…after I left you lying on the floor in that motel in Cold Spring. When I went with Ruby to take out Lilith, I …I still wanted you _safe_, Dean. Thought being apart from me was probably the safest place you could be, especially after what I had done." His hand unconsciously fisted and opened and fisted again, couldn't quite get the feeling of Dean's skin under his hands as he choked him out of his head, was like a sense memory to his hands. Ruefully, he shook his head and his lips twisted into a self chastising smile. "Funny that, only a few weeks later, being with you was the only thing I wanted." '_And it's still what I want.' _

Dean's own throat felt thick with choked emotions and his mind was churning with memories that he had shuffled onto the hell slide show labeled 'Do not watch. Ever'. But Sam's words also offered light where darkness had only dealt before. And maybe someday he would deal with that…but not right then. So he fell back to familiar strongholds: jokes and laughter and mazes choked with billowing smoke and road-blocked with a thousand mirrors. "Well today proves that we're stronger together, not apart. Apart I get kidnapped, and nearly sacrificed and zapped off to back-to-the-future world where toilet paper is the best commodity going," Dean recounted with a smirk, hoping that Sam knew his words were acceptance and agreement and forgiveness. His coping method earned him a true, if small smile from his brother.

"Don't expect me to be your bodyguard, dude. To start going bar hopping with you all the time," Sam drawled, loved when Dean's eyes darkened at his implication that his big brother needed _his_ protection. "Besides, it would be embarrassing for you when I showed you up at the poker tables," Sam challenged, watched as his brother's eyebrows rose in umbrage.

"Show me up?! You win _one_," Dean raised his right index finger, "**One** poker match and now you're Mr. Rounders himself. You were lucky, Sam. LUCK…EE. Was luck, not skill."

Using his brother's distraction, Sam pushed Dean down to sit on the backseat cushion. "Stay," he barked as he left Dean's side, headed to the back of the car, could hear his brother's denials even when he ducked his head into the trunk for the first aid kit.

"I mean, fours?! Seriously dude. You won with fours. Guy definitely let you win 'cause he liked my moxie."

Sam choked on his laughter. "Moxie, Dean!?" he repeated, as he returned to his brother's side, dropped to his knees on the parking lot of the bar and opened their well worn box of first aid supplies. "How old are you, really? Ninety? Maybe only your body went back to normal but your mind's still…"

"Sharp as ever…" Dean defended, watching as his brother sat the supplies he thought he needed onto the lid of the first aid box. "For Pete sake, Sam. You're pulling out enough stuff to supply an ER. Let you operate on me once and you think you're …"

Sam's head came up, his eyes pierced his. "Once? Dean, patching you up is second nature to me."

"But without the hot girls waiting on you hand and foot. That you could get used to," Dean qualified, raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively

Just for that crack, Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's ankle, pulled out his knife and proficiently sliced Dean's pantleg from cuff to knee, just like the well trained surgeon his brother had taught him to be. He gave a smug, flash of a smile when Dean grimaced, not in pain but at the loss of yet another pair of his pants. "Connor got the drop on you…" he accused gruffly, because as much as he knew it wasn't Dean's fault he had been terrified…it kinda was. He shifted his look from Dean down to the task of dousing some bandages with antiseptic wash.

"He's a hunter, Sam. Getting the drop on people is his _job_," Dean pointed out, as if Sam were the one with the geriatric mind.

"Thought not letting anyone get the drop on you was your _job_," Sam volleyed back, reprimand tingeing his words. Because this just couldn't happen again, he couldn't bear to lose his brother and Dean had to take this seriously, being alive, _staying _alive. When Dean didn't make a retort, he gently swiped the treated bandage across the bullet wound, internally cringed when the white bandage quickly turned red with blood. Discarding the bandage on the ground, he reached for another, pressed that one to the wound, even as he wrapped his other hand around the back of Dean's knee to keep his leg in place. Knew the action hurt his brother because, though Dean might be a master of disguising his pain, his body wasn't, was taut under Sam's ministrations.

Dean's jaw clenched, not in pain or even anger at Sam's words but in self-loathing. Cursed himself for making Sam think he might just end up being last Winchester standing all over again. "Sam, it wasn't like I _signed up_ to be the chum in the water for his deal," Dean defended, though he was using that little boy, quiet, hurt tone.

"But you weren't going to let me shoot him either," Sam railed back, had seen the look of entreaty in Dean's eyes when their standoff ensued. A look that stayed his hand from pulling the trigger almost more than the lack of a clear shot had.

Dean didn't even bother to make denials. "He lost his brother, Sam! We both know what that feels like."

"Yeah, and I'm not losing mine again," Sam heatedly returned without forethought, was all hard edges and resolve. It was twisted how love could make his voice turn harsh, could make the idea of killing someone an easy choice when stacked up against losing his brother. Dropping his eyes again to the bullet wound, he lifted the bandage, saw with relief that the bleeding had stopped. Pressing a sterile pad to the wound with his left hand, he reached the other for the roll of bandages on the first aid kit, was surprised when his left hand was pushed aside and Dean's took its place holding the pad. His eyes did a hit and run with Dean's and there was understanding in his brother's eyes. They both had no desire to lose their brother again.

With Dean holding the pad in place, Sam began wrapping the bandage around Dean's leg. Didn't have to tell Dean when to shift his hold, he just knew. They were old pros at this, patching each other up. Tying the bandage in place, he grabbed another pad, and reached up to Dean's neck. Was pleased when Dean, instead of balking at his aid, he raised his head so he had a better view of the wound.

The wound wasn't bleeding anymore due to a blood clot and he wasn't opting to do anything to antagonize it, not out in the middle of nowhere with no running water. But he couldn't stop himself from trying to rub away the dried streaks of blood that went down his brother's neck. It was too sharp a remained of the standoff that night, the knife pressed to his brother's neck, ready and able to sever his throat. He almost started when Dean spoke, when his brother's adam's apple moved under his hand.  
"I'll be more careful, alright," Dean vowed, knew he owed Sam that much, especially after seeing the look in his brother's eyes that night, the fear.

Profound relief washed over Sam and he knew it was illogical to trust such a statement, to treat it like Dean was saying, 'I won't die on you.' But in Dean speak, it was practically the same thing. And as far as vows went, Dean wasn't one to default on them.

Lowering his head so his eyes met Sam's, Dean tacked on, "I won't even take candy from strangers.." a slow grin pulling onto his lips.

Sam's reaction to his brother's second statement was a snort. "Yeah, that would be a first."

"Ok, so maybe I'll just have you taste test the candy that I take from strangers. Satisfied?" Dean said, smugly finding a loop hole in his own vow.

"Oh yeah. Ok," Sam sarcastically drawled with a disbelieving laugh. Like Dean ever listened to him when he told him what he should or should not eat. Knowing that there wasn't more he could do for his brother's wounds without better lighting, water and some place cleaner than even his brother's precious car, Sam stowed away the medical supplies in the box. Standing up, he reached a hand down to Dean. Dean readily took up Sam's offer and wrapped his arm around his brother's forearm, allowed Sam to help him come to his feet…well foot.

Gingerly, Dean tested his injured leg, felt the pain shoot up his leg. Without forewarning, Sam's long arm slid behind him and he was pulled up against his brother's side. He didn't waste his ebbing energy trying to convince Sam that he didn't need his help, on trying to pretend he was invincible. Sam knew better. But as he and Sam made slow progress around the Impala to the passenger side door, he didn't see any judgment or disappointment in Sam's expression, only concern.

Opening the passenger door, Sam didn't loosen his hold on Dean until he was seated in the Impala. Crossing back over to the driver's side, he picked up the first aid kit, returned it to the trunk and then climbed into the car. After shooting a look across the front seat to make sure his brother was settled, he started the engine, felt comforted by the rumble of the engine but it was the fact that he wasn't sitting in the car alone anymore, wondering where his brother was that made his heart rate finally resume its normal pacing. Pulling the car unto the road, he was wondering if it was worth the risk to return to their motel for their belongings when Dean spoke.

"There is one thing we have to take care of, Sam," Dean announced, a serious hue to his words.

"What's that?" Sam asked, eyes skirting to his brother's, knew that whatever it was, it worried Dean. And if it worried Dean, it worried him.  
"Track down all those books Chuck wrote. Because I would bet my last dollar that Connor was reading them to get to know our playbook," Dean revealed, had put two and two together sometime between being drugged and nearly given a Columbian necktie.

"Bobby knew Connor. Maybe he told him…" Sam theorized, eyes darting between road and brother.

"About the shapeshifter in St Louis? About the colt? About my deal to save you? About my going to hell?" Dean sarcastically challenged. "Bobby's not that much of a talker."

"No, he's not." Sam agreed with dread resurfacing. "The guy at the comic store said the books weren't good sellers. I mean, who really read them but that whacked out fangirl and the publisher?"

"Connor for one and that's one too many in my book," Dean darkly pointed out.

Sam snorted, "Did you just say _book_?" calling his brother out on his pun of words. He smiled harder when Dean rolled his eyes in defeat. "And before you said play_book_."

"What are you, my editor? Are you going to grade and censor everything I say?!" Dean playfully shot back.

"That would be a full time job Dean and I already got one." At Dean's questioning look he answered, "Pulling your bacon out of the _fire_," he purposefully made his own pun after the events of the night.

"Funny, Sam," Dean retorted. "But it's me who has to do that for you, 24/7. Not the other way around."

"Who pulled Hilton off you? Who won the poker game? Who found you tonight? That's three," Sam tallied, raising three fingers, "for _me_ and that's just in the last couple of _days_, Dean."

"Days?! I got years tallied up. _Years._ Starting when I was..what? Four! Boy you will lose this game, hands down," Dean enthusiastically parried, anxious to bring all his credits to the table for this particular showdown.

Without attracting the notice of the Winchesters, Castiel had popped into the Impala's backseat moments earlier. It had taken witnessing the interaction between the brothers that night to make him realize just how much he missed his own brothers. Missed belonging somewhere, missed having someone to talk to, missed having someplace to be. And after he left the brothers, was half way to nowhere, he couldn't forget the look in Dean's eyes that night or the way Dean had grasp onto his shoulder and said 'don't ever change' after he had spirited him out of Zachariah's grip. It made him hope that he could have those things again, could belong, didn't have to be alone. That Dean's ardent speech about people, about families being the only thing real, worth dying for…maybe it could include him. That maybe he had been wrong, about this life on earth only offering pain. He had seen pain that night, yes. But he had also seen love, seen devotion, seen forgiveness and compassion. From the very two people who were credited with launching the end of the world. God did indeed work in mysterious ways.

"The difficulty and necessity of the rescue, that should amass more points," he announced, pleased that he could contribute to their conversation about who was better at saving whom.

Shocked at Cas' unexpected inclusion in their game, not to mention his sudden appearance in the _car_, Sam jerked the steering wheel in his hands, sent the car rocketing toward the shoulder. Frantically he pulled the steering wheel to the left, got them back on the road without catastrophe before shooting Cas a glare via the rearview mirror.

"Cas, I warned you about the popping in…" Dean growled, turning around to glare at their new backseat passenger.

"We talked about personal space not about..._'popping in'_…" Castiel stiltedly returned, fighting to not let mirth show in his eyes as he purposefully baited the man. But Dean's eyes narrowed, as if he was pretty sure he was being played. Before the man could get a confession out of him, Castiel boldly stated, "I saved you both from Zachariah. That should declare me the winner of this game." His declaration, however, was met with impassioned denials from both of the brothers.

"Does not!" Dean and Sam emphatically contested in synch, outraged, neither willing to ever concede that even an angel could beat them in a showdown of who looked out for his brother best.

Canting his head, Castiel presented his case under Dean's disputing glare. "Sam had no lungs and you had stomach cancer. If I had not intervened, you both would have died."

"We would have gotten out of that. We've been in tighter spots," Dean boasted wasn't prepared for Cas and _Sam_ to incredulously demand, "When?!"

Shooting Sam a lethal look, he grumbled, "Whose side are you on?!" before he faced Cas, sought to explain how things worked to the angel. "And it's about dependability, not some flash in the pan save."

Pulling his eyes from the road to look at his brother, Sam argued, "Which is why I'm ahead of you."

"In your _dreams_," Dean sardonically retorted. Sliding back into his seat, he faced his very delusional brother. "Didn't they teach you counting at Stanford, Sammy?"

As the brothers continued to disagree about who saved who when and who needed saving and who didn't, Castiel couldn't hold back a genuine smile. He was more certain than ever that Gabriel was as wrong about the Winchester brothers as he was about God. Because defeat? It wasn't on the horizon. Hope was.

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The End

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"Be joyful in hope, patient in trouble, and persistent in prayer." Romans 12:12

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Thanks for your wonderful support of this story that was just some ramblings that I had to put to paper. You guys really made sharing it on ffnet a lot of fun!

Have a wonderful evening and I hope everyone enjoys tonight's episode!

Cheryl W.


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